


Penance and Purgatory

by vega_voices



Series: You Are Like That, [10]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M, Oh the guilt, Post Equinox, also these two are idiots and they know it, her guilt complex is something special, in case you were curious kathryn janeway is catholic, katie he is waiting for you what is your deal girl?, post episode, the angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:20:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27088501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vega_voices/pseuds/vega_voices
Summary: She pressed her lips together, trying to keep from making the moment awkward but there it was and she hiccupped a giggle that just came out and she felt him shake his head and then heard his own laugh join her and for a long, long time in the captain’s quarters, there was only laughter. The laughter of trauma and release, the laughter of hopelessness, the laughter that is found only when the only light at the end of the tunnel is probably an oncoming dragon.
Relationships: Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway
Series: You Are Like That, [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1861696
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Penance and Purgatory

**Title:** Penance and Purgatory  
**Author:** vegawriters  
**Fandom:** Star Trek: Voyager  
**Series:** You Are Like That,  
**Pairing:** Kathryn Janeway/Chakotay  
**Rating:** M  
**Timeframe:** Post Equinox  
**A/N:** Sometimes stories chew on you for a couple of weeks because you’re sitting in your living room, depressed because we’re in a pandemic and you know, everything else is happening, and you just wish Kathryn had managed to get over herself ….  
**Disclaimer:** Of course I don’t make any money off of this. The powers that be hold the cards. I just toss them up in the air and mess them up a bit. Also, _Offering_ by Tess Gallagher appears in the _Dear Ghosts,_ anthology. 

**Summary:** _She pressed her lips together, trying to keep from making the moment awkward but there it was and she hiccupped a giggle that just came out and she felt him shake his head and then heard his own laugh join her and for a long, long time in the captain’s quarters, there was only laughter. The laughter of trauma and release, the laughter of hopelessness, the laughter that is found only when the only light at the end of the tunnel is probably an oncoming dragon._

_When the shots on the mountain_  
crack the stillness, their sacrifice  
must now include us.  
-From Offering, by Tess Gallagher 

Exorcisms weren’t meant to be quiet. 

They were meant to leave bruises and scratch marks. They were meant to be heralded with keening and growling and shouts to Gods that had long since abandoned the soul. They weren’t meant to be experienced alone, in the dark of damaged quarters, staring blankly at the remains of a broken bowl she’d found in a market on Alronis VI. Yet, Kathryn sat, staring at the chunks of pottery. She knew she should rest. She knew it was her turn to sleep, and that her crew, her devoted family, were on top of repairs and cleanup. The ship was headed back to the planet where they’d caught up to Ransom and they’d catch a few days of rest behind for the repairs they couldn’t do at warp. Provided of course they didn’t end up encroaching on someone else’s territory and have to find a way to defend themselves with broken pottery and half-charged phaser rifles. 

How many more fights like this? How many more would they lose? How many more letters would she write to wives and husbands and partners and parents and children, all in the hope that the datastream wouldn’t degrade on the way back to Earth. How many had she lost chasing her guilt and blaming it on Ransom? How many more next time? 

She knew every name of her crew who had been lost and she knew the name of every person she’d written to, every soul who prayed every day against hope that their child would come racing through some wormhole and into their arms again and all Kathryn had been able to do was confirm their worst fears. Forget Voyager as a generational ship, they would just slowly be killed off while Kathryn tripped over herself all the way to where, exactly? The next shiny planet to be explored? 

So much for getting them home. 

And the demon that stood in the room with her, the guilt that would not be expunged, the taunting darkness that refused to leave her be was that she knew, she knew in her heart, that she wasn’t that different from Ransom. All in the greater glory of The Federation, after all. Her morals be damned, her ethics forgotten, she had been willing to sacrifice all in the name of a code of honor she broke the minute she put Ransom over her crew. She hadn’t been chasing him, she’d been chasing herself. And it wasn’t the first time. How often had she done it? Had ignored personal choice in the name of Federation meddling? She’d all but kidnapped Seven from the Collective, she’d ignored B’Elanna’s protests about Moset, Tuvix still haunted her dreams. All in the name of … what, exactly? 

“Computer. Lights. Full illumination.” 

In an instant, the lights flickered and then came up on full, revealing the full extent of the damage of her once cozy quarters. Kathryn flinched. She wanted to tell the computer to drop the lights, to let her stumble through the darkness while she cleaned up, but no. This was her doing and she needed to face it with the lights on. 

Slowly, she bent to pick up the pieces of pottery and dropped them into the recycler. Bit-by-broken-bit, she brushed the dust from books and put them back where they belonged while tossing favorite tea cups into the void of recycled energy. Nothing saved if it was broken. Her ship needed every bit of spare power that could be manufactured, especially since she knew the potluck was still going on the holodeck. A necessary expenditure of energy, anything to boost the morale of the crew right now. She’d even allowed the surviving Equinox crew an hour of time. They couldn’t be policed forever, after all. But, after only thirty minutes, she hadn’t been able to look at her croutons any longer, hadn’t been able to smile and congratulate the crew on a job well done when the job they’d accomplished had been one of blindsided revenge. Ransom was right about one thing: they were a long way from Starfleet. 

An hour later, most of the debris swept away and her hands gunky and dusty, she knelt on the floor and retrieved from under her desk the one thing she’d prayed had survived the pummeling from the Equinox. Even before her hand closed around the glass jar, she knew it was broken. She’d seen the scattered sand, had prayed it had all just spilled. Instead, the jagged glass sliced through her hand and the curse that came from her lips was one learned only from her chief engineer. 

Dripping blood, she made her way to the head, and ran her hand under the faucet only to realize that the water in her quarters hadn’t been restored. Taking a chance, she keyed in the sonic controls and sighed as the waves washed over her hand. The blood slowed and the wound pinked up as it was cleaned. A long look told her she shouldn’t need a visit to sickbay, but that it wouldn’t be a bad idea to bandage her hand and possibly just quit for the night. She was dirty and tired and of no use to her crew if she didn’t catch a few hours of sleep. 

Shedding the uniform that was more grease than cloth, Kathryn stepped into the sonic shower and let the waves pull the gunk from her body and hair. Normally, she would linger but tonight she stayed just long enough to be clean before stepping back out into her quarters, running a hand through her dry hair. She missed the long tresses that had once cascaded down her back, but the longer they were out here, the more it just felt silly to indulge in something even as comforting to her personality as longer hair. So, she’d sat herself down in Crewman Kellis’ chair and tried not to wince as the locks fell away. Kellis was as good as their word and cosmology degree, and knew their way around a pair of sonic scissors, but that hadn’t changed the heartbreak Kathryn felt as she’d cupped her hands around her shorter hair. 

Somehow, her uniforms remained on the hanger and Kathryn rolled her eyes at the irony. Instead of donning a fresh jumpsuit, she opened her drawer storage and pulled out a pair of Starfleet issue leggings and a gray tank top. Her gaze lingered on the satin nightgowns she used to indulge in, when she’d crawl between her regulation sheets and let the cool of her preferred nightwear comfort her. When had she stopped giving herself that joy? After the Void, perhaps? Now, she slept ready to jump to action. Uniform at the ready, always, but also prepared to take to the bridge just in case. A pink satin nightgown just wouldn’t do when facing off against … other Starfleet captains. A long sigh escaped her as she shut the drawer, donned the leggings and tank top, and made her way to the bed. Pulling the dirty comforter down, she tossed it to the floor and left it to be recycled in the morning. At least the sheets below were clean. Bone tired, she crawled onto the mattress, but sleep eluded her and she stared out at the stars that moved past. Her beloved ship, her home, creeping along at warp 3 and barely making that. How was she going to get through the next few hours, just pretending to rest? There was so much to do, so many things to oversee and help with. She -- 

A chime interrupted her thoughts and quickly, glad for the interruption, Kathryn bolted out of bed. “Come in.” It was an order. Something she could control. There, barely backlit by the dim lights of the corridor was her first officer. He too was out of uniform and looked like he’d indulged in a five minute sonic shower. “Tuvok is handling repairs right now,” Chakotay said as he came into her quarters and the door slid closed behind him. “But I wanted to make sure you were resting.” 

She knew that tone, knew that he knew full well she was tossing and turning. “I tried,” she confessed. “But …” 

He nodded, his gaze dancing around her mostly-cleaned quarters. Kathryn knew without looking that he was taking in the pile of debris around her now broken dining table - trash she would have the ops crew take down to the industrial recycler in the morning. Still, she followed his gaze beyond the table, to the gaps in her décor, to the grains of bright yellow and blue sand that were scattered out beyond her desk. That jar of sand was their last link to New Earth, the shared reminder of a night they’d spent, him teaching her the sand art he was learning himself, her mostly wanting to distract him. She prayed, fervently, that his own jar of sand had made it through. 

“Well,” he finally said, “we survived at least.” 

A choking sob escaped her and Kathryn turned back to the window. “You deserved better,” she whispered to the viewport. “You all deserved better than chasing my demons to our near destruction.” Silence. Tense, important silence. She counted heartbeats for far too long before letting out a long, shuddering sigh. “I haven’t said it yet, not directly, so allow me to now: I’m sorry, Chakotay. I crossed a line and rather than listen to you, I … I’m sorry.” 

He was quiet and she let him process the apology. His response was exactly what she expected, and what she deserved. “I can’t serve as your first officer if you don’t trust me and if you don’t trust me, the crew won’t. Don’t put me in this position again, Kathryn. Please." 

Wincing at the tone in his voice, she nodded. “I can’t promise anything,” she said to the stars. “But, I’ll try.” 

They were silent for a long time and she expected him to see himself out. Instead, she heard him cross the room, heard some piece of detritus crunch under his foot, and she put her hands to her face, praying he’d leave, praying she could flagellate in solitude. But, those hands, those familiar hands, rested on her shoulders and moved down her arms until he had pulled her back against his body, so firm and familiar, and she rested her head against his cheek and they stood there, his arms wrapped around her and her leaning into him. She wanted more. Needed more. Needed him to move his hand under her shirt and rip it from her and push her to the bed and take his frustrations out on her all-too willing body. But he stood there, simply holding her, and slowly, she gave up control to the moment and allowed herself to stand there, feeling the discomfort of guilt and forcing herself to live with it. 

“The glass of sand broke,” she finally said, pushing away from Chakotay before she did something smart, like turn in his arms and kiss him and rip the lid off of her ever-pent-up feelings. 

“I saw,” he said, his eyes meeting hers in the ghost of the reflection of the view port. “That’s how you cut your hand?” 

She rolled her eyes and yet again wondered if somewhere in his lineage he was part Betazoid. “Yes,” she grumped, walking away. In the drawer next to her replicator were two ration packs and she tossed one to him. “Sorry, I’m keeping chocolate raisin.” 

He only conceded with a smile and opened the foil pack. “I’m just glad B’Elanna got the sonic showers working.” 

“She was one of the top three decisions you made, you know.” Kathryn made her way to the couch and sat down. “And maybe, I’ll just leave my quarters like this. You know, for the next disaster.” 

He rolled his eyes as he sat next to her. “Self-pity doesn’t look very good on you.” 

“I know,” she conceded. “But sometimes, there is just so much weight.” 

“And sometimes, you choose to shoulder it alone.” He paused, chewing on his rations, and Kathryn waited for whatever brilliant story would emerge to make her feel better. Finally, he just took her hand and squeezed. “You know, three years ago, this crew risked everything for you. They took months off the trip home because they didn’t want to let you down.” 

“Let _us_ down.” 

He nodded a bit, but continued. “They defied your perfectly logical Starfleet order because we aren’t just a crew. This is a family. This is a community. You’ve said it yourself. We defied your order when we were in the Void and you wanted to sacrifice yourself to close that shortcut through space.” A pause. “Kathryn, the longer we are out here, the more I see you isolate yourself. The more you question yourself. You made a decision five years ago, and no matter the emotions in that decision at the time, we are here now. Together. And, if you want this crew to be a Starfleet crew, you have to remember that personal vendettas are … well, for the Board room, not the Captain’s chair.” 

That made her laugh. She squeezed his hand and leaned against him and he adjusted so they were curled up together, ration packs forgotten. “The number of captains who go off half-cocked because some other captain out there tripped up our sense of morality ….” she sighed. 

“There’s a reason there …” he paused and took a breath. “There’s a reason so many of us Maquis were also ex-Starfleet. The morals were there. The ethics ingrained. But we couldn’t stomach Starfleet’s choices on when and when not to get involved, especially when it came to our own homes.” 

“I’ve thought about that a lot,” Kathryn said, looking at their linked hands. “I think that’s one of the many reasons I trusted you when we joined our crews. Not because you were former Starfleet, but because of what you stood for. I might not have agreed with the tactics, but … I understood.” 

He was quiet. She waited. And as the silence moved from contemplative to comfortable, a laugh bubbled up in her. She pressed her lips together, trying to keep from making the moment awkward but there it was and she hiccupped a giggle that just came out and she felt him shake his head and then heard his own laugh join her and for a long, long time in the captain’s quarters, there was only laughter. The laughter of trauma and release, the laughter of hopelessness, the laughter that is found only when the only light at the end of the tunnel is probably an oncoming dragon. Finally, she let out a breath. 

“You know, I should probably work on lightening up,” Kathryn confessed. “Somewhere along the way,” she wiped her eyes, “I fell into this … cycle … that the only way to lead everyone home was to be everything I really hated about some of my old captains.” 

Chakotay shared her smile. “The most ingrained lessons are often the ones that are most toxic.” He paused. “You aren’t as uptight as you think you are.” He reached out to stroke her cheek. “Distant, perhaps. You feel the losses on this crew more than any of us and because of that, you don’t allow yourself the same celebrations. We’re in this together, Kathryn. All of us. The risks are … maybe they are too much sometimes. But the rewards haven’t been all that bad either. We’re a family, here, Kathryn. From Naomi to Seven.” 

“A bit of a dysfunctional one.” 

“All families are,” he chuckled. “I mean, come on, how many of us have romanticized the Alpha Quadrant through our loneliness. Do you think it was really fun to have Cardassians and Starfleet shooting at us all the time?” 

With every sentence, she felt just a bit better. “You have a point.” The tension finally slipped from her shoulders and Kathryn allowed herself to curl back up against him, this time for companionship and not comfort. “You think they’ll forgive me?” 

“They already have,” he kissed the side of her head. She understood what he meant, how _he_ already had. “So, now, you need to forgive yourself.” 

Kathryn rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah.” But he was right. And that was the hardest part. 

She felt him shift, felt his fingers trace patterns where they rested on her arm. Her own body reacted, the adrenaline turning into something else, nearing a line they hadn’t crossed since she’d almost died, since they’d gone for a midnight sail on Lake George and despite their best efforts to maintain decorum and distance, the touch they’d needed had won out. Now, slowly, she ran her fingertips down his chest, her mind screaming for her to stop. But even as her smarter angels lectured her, she lifted her lips to his and the kiss that was waiting seared right through her core. 

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered, his lips so close she could feel the heat from his words. “Tell me to stop and I’ll get up and walk out.” 

She didn’t want him to stop. “What if I can’t …” she groaned when his hand moved to her breast, cupping her through the thin fabric. His thumb worked her nipple. “What if I want this tonight and don’t know what I want tomorrow?” 

She’d said the exact words to him that night on Lake George, when their lips met and he’d cried because she was alive and he hadn’t been sure he’d been able to handle her death and he’d told her he’d follow whatever lead she took. They’d stopped that night, before it came to be too much, because she’d known she wasn’t ready for the changes that having a romantic relationship with her first officer would bring. 

Now, though? Years later? 

Did she adhere strictly to protocol when she’d seen what breaking it would do? Did she allow for flexibility in something, because she’d seen what consequences moral imperatives demanded? Did she just let this happen now because they’d cheated death yet again and she was in love with him and he was in love with her and there came a point where a decision had to be made? At what point did they truly let each other go? 

She shivered and his mouth descended on hers again. 

His taking control was subtle, but necessary. Kathryn knew she’d stay here on the edge of this cliff for an eternity, waffling over decency and structure, wondering if she would always see Ransom when she stared in the mirror. Losing herself in the never-forgotten feel of Chakotay’s lips against hers, all of the worries and pressures fled, for just a moment. But their bodies were dancing together as if there weren’t years and tension and heartbreak between them. His hands were up inside her shirt and her fingers were tugging to loosen his and she was half-naked in his lap, pressing her core against his hard evidence of his hopes for the evening before she came back to herself. Their eyes again met and she could see the expectation that she would send him away with a lecture that this just couldn’t happen until they crossed some mythical threshold. She could see that he expected her to put up her walls, and she held her breath for a long moment. After all, to allow this, here, in this moment, would be to take that one step closer to Ransom, to his way of doing things, to throwing protocol out the airlock. 

Fuck it. 

“I went after Ransom because I needed to prove Starfleet still matters,” she said, linking her fingers with Chakotay’s. “Because I had allowed myself to believe that it was all I had left.” 

“I hope you know now that isn’t true.” 

“The reminder has been received,” she said with a half-smile. He moved his hand to cup her breast and she watched his thumb stroke her puckered nipple. “I don’t know what tomorrow will look like if we do this, Chakotay.” 

“You went after Ransom because you think too much,” was his response. A shiver coursed through her entire being and Kathryn leaned down to claim another kiss. As usual, her first officer was right. She thought too much. 

He carried her to her bed and as he set her down, she shimmied out of her leggings while watching him shed his own clothes. They were done with words, didn’t dare to break the spell they were weaving for each other. Naked, they came together again, all hands and lips and legs tangling as they battled for position while moving ever closer. His fingers moved between her legs, sliding into her while her hand stroked him in that way she’d learned long ago he liked. 

It wasn’t like it was on New Earth. There was no hesitant, gentle exploration. There was no tender laughter bringing them from place to place. This was penance and purgatory, a race for release and a scramble for reconnection. How far they’d drifted from each other since New Earth, since Q, since staring each other down across the conference room while they blew a hole through Borg space. Since being Dear Johned in a letter from across the galaxy. Since finding out all his friends, his lovers, his compatriots were dead or in prison and he was left wondering what his fate truly would be if they made it home. Since they’d started dinners that had doubled as dates that only led to longing, rumors only led to pushback. Since her dalliance with Kashyk and his affair with a memory only brought to life in the scribbles of a paper journal. Had he truly loved Kellin? Was it possible to love someone you could never remember? Was it possible to love someone you could never truly be with? 

She wrapped her legs around him as he positioned himself, ready to slide into her, and for the first time since landing on her bed, their eyes again met. She nodded, and the last barrier they’d set between them almost three years ago was broken. He slammed into her with a force that left them both breathless and most likely a little chafed. She didn’t care. She wanted to feel the friction, the force, the resistance. She needed more than tender, gentle, equal worship of each other’s bodies. Thankfully, so did he. 

His grip left bruises, his mouth bite marks. He pinned her hands above her head as his body moved in and out of hers and she arched into his bulk, giving back what she could but letting him take what she needed to give. It was not fast and it was not gentle and as she keened over the edge, one leg over his shoulder the other wide open to the bed, she screamed his name as a prayer while he collapsed inside of her. 

He was right. She thought too much. 

A gentle kiss pressed to her collarbone and with a shudder, Kathryn opened her eyes to find Chakotay waiting for her to come back to him. “I guess we needed that,” she chuckled. 

“You okay?” 

“Better than okay,” she murmured, stroking her hand down his cheek. Slowly, he rolled off her and they both winced as their bodies separated. Kathryn sat up, not bothering to hide herself with the sheet. She knew she should make a quick run to the head. Should wash her hands and face and return the world to some sense of normal. But right now, this felt normal. “Are you okay?” she finally asked, realizing just how much tonight had been about her. Ever the story of their relationship, really. 

“I don’t know,” came his honest answer. He was lying on his back, hands laced behind his head. Sweat cooled on his naked body and she looked down at her lover, appreciating every part of him. “I don’t know how I feel right now, or how I’ll feel in the morning.” 

“Would it make you feel better to know it’s already morning?” A long pause and he laughed lightly. She leaned to kiss his chest before moving to the head to take care of her needs. Tossing her pink satin robe around her body, she walked back into her quarters to see him dressing and her heart sank just a bit. “You’re leaving?” 

Half-dressed, he faced her. “I think we need to let this just be what it was, Kathryn.” 

But she wasn’t sure what it had been. Not really. “Do you regret it?” 

Again, silence. Long, contemplative silence. Finally, he pulled his shirt over his head and walked to her. His arms moved around her and she clung to him. “Only because I don’t think it will happen again for a while. Because this wasn’t about us, but about a release we needed.” 

“I wouldn’t have with anyone else …” 

“That isn’t my point, but … thank you.” He kissed the top of her head and she tightened her arms around him. She buried her face in his chest, inhaling him and their combined scent, and knew all it would take would be her asking him to stay, to be with her. But he needed something she wasn’t ready to release, not yet. Because, as it had been on New Earth, accepting them meant accepting that returning to the Alpha Quadrant was perhaps the dream, but not the goal. So she lifted her lips for a kiss. “Dinner tomorrow night?” he asked as he stepped away. 

“You can help me set up my new table,” she agreed. 

“It’s a plan.” Chakotay moved toward the door, but he was hesitant, waiting for her to tell him to stay. But she wasn’t ready. They weren’t ready. And so he nodded once and left her quarters and Kathryn turned to stare at her rumpled bed and the dirty comforter on the floor. 

“Bridge to Janeway,” came the tired and familiar voice of her ops officer. 

“Yes, Harry?” 

“Just wanted to let you know, we’ve arrived at the planet.” 

She turned to see the ship drop out of warp and the lifeless rock come up close to her viewport. “Standard orbit. B’Elanna’s in charge for the first round of repairs.” She moved to her bed and took a seat on the edge. “I’ll be on the bridge in a couple of hours.” 

“Understood.” 

The comm link cut and Kathryn stretched out on her sheets, wrapping her arms around the unused pillow. Her body tingled with a last sizzle of energy and in orbit of the planet that, she hoped, would shield her ship, she left her crew in the hands of her chief engineer. 

“Computer, turn off the lights.” 

Her quarters plunged into darkness, hiding the singed couch and the broken glass. She was alone with the stars and the planet while her ops and engineering team got to work. Her body ached from her tumble with Chakotay; bruises on her pressure points kept her from finding perfect comfort, but that was the nature of life out here after all. Alone in her bed, Kathryn finally allowed herself some sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> Offering
> 
> Before hunting season  
> Josie prunes the apple trees.  
>  _Leave the branches where they  
>  fall,_ I say, having seen at dusk  
> the tensile lips of the deer  
> reaching up. 
> 
> Day into dusk and  
> the sign of their feasting.  
> Nearest thing to joy, the limbs  
> over days gradually stripped  
> to a many-antlered thicket  
> on the ground. 
> 
> Not to witness necks  
> bent to forage -  
> somehow a right communion  
> in a time when, even to  
> exchange glances, plea  
> to plea, might harm  
> an inner complicitous reaching. 
> 
> When shots on the mountain  
> crack the stillness, their sacrifice  
> must now include us. 
> 
> -Tess Gallagher


End file.
